Keep Walking
by AZGirl
Summary: Takes place directly after the end of episode 4.10, Heaven and Hell. Dean takes a walk with his thoughts. Spoilers within only if you haven’t seen the episode.


**Keep Walking**

**Summary**: Takes place directly after the end of episode 4.10, Heaven and Hell. Dean takes a walk with his thoughts. Spoilers within only if you haven't seen the episode.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Kripke et al owns Supernatural

**A/N**: Part of this idea came to me when I was working on my final project for my class. (Yay! No school until Jan. 5!). It wasn't originally going to be a direct tag to episode 4.10, but that's how it worked out. I'm just thrilled that my muse is talking to me again. I thought my class had killed it….

Please review. I haven't written anything for fun in awhile….

ooooooo

The silence is killing me. I wish Sammy would say something. Anything.

I lift the beer bottle in my hand up, intending to drink, but as the silence continues, I let my arm drop back to my side having lost the taste for it.

A couple of stray tears escape my eyes and I hastily wipe them off.

Suddenly, I can't take the silence anymore, and I turn towards Sam with the intention of suggesting that we get back on the road. The open road has always helped me get a handle on things and I hope it will work its magic yet again.

I'm about to speak but when I look into his eyes, I can see it. The guilt. The pity. And, something else I can quite put my finger on.

My heart speeds up. I can barely breathe. I didn't want this. I didn't want to tell Sam about what happened to me in Hell – what I did in Hell – for this very reason. I knew he would feel guilty and pity me. I don't want pity. I don't deserve pity. I gave in, I don't deserve anything good in my life ever again. I don't really deserve to have Sam in my life either, but I can't let him go just yet.

I change my mind in that instant and hand my beer bottle to Sam. He takes it with a confused look on his face, and I point east, saying:

"I'm going for a walk. Alone. There's a rest stop about 3 miles or so that way, you can pick me up there."

Sam looks as though he's about to protest, but I don't give him the chance and just start walking. He yells for me, but I ignore him and don't turn to look back. I reach into my pocket, take out my cell phone, and turn off the ringer.

I need to get my head back together – need to push Hell back into the corner of mind – and right now I can't do that with Sam's guilt and pity rolling off him in waves. I just can't.

I hear the Impala's engine on the road and hear her slow down. I know Sam wants my attention, but I don't turn to look and just keep walking. He tries honking the horn, and I ignore that too. Eventually he gives up and drives off. I keep walking.

But, I can't push Hell back and I can't stop the thoughts from coming. They are practically overwhelming me. Somehow I keep walking.

I reach into my coat for my flask and open it intending on drinking the contents over the next few miles – to help numb my thoughts, but decide that I don't even deserve this small reprieve anymore. I don't deserve anything but to suffer for what I did to all those souls while I was in Hell. I deserve to be put back on the rack forever for what I've done. I will welcome it when I die and go back there.

I stop and upend the flask, watching the amber liquid pour out onto the ground. I decide to cut back on the alcohol, perhaps stop drinking completely. I don't deserve to have my thoughts and feelings be numbed anymore.

Despite not wanting to feel a damned thing anymore, I believe that I need to do some sort of penance for all the pain I caused others in Hell – pain that I caused just so that I could selfishly escape being in pain myself.

All those years of saving people and hunting things were wiped out by my not saying _No_ to Alastair just one more time.

One. More. Time.

If I had said _No_ just one more time then maybe, just maybe, I could have held out longer and not become the monster that I became down there.

I keep walking.

I can't help but think about my time in Hell. I can keep the thoughts mostly in check during the day, but at night I can't control them and they come out in my nightmares. I haven't had a decent night of sleep since I came back. It's making it more and more difficult to keep Hell away during the day.

I think back to that time when I confessed to Sam that I was tired of the job and the life, the weight on my shoulders. I can't help but think now how good I had it back then.

No matter how bad I thought my life ever was on earth, nothing can ever compare to how bad it was in Hell.

Nothing. Ever.

Bad doesn't even begin to cover just how horrible Hell is. Unless someone has been to Hell, their worst nightmares can't even compare.

I can only think of three moments in my life that could possibly even come close. I hope to die before I have to live through any more moments like that ever again.

I stop walking when I can see the edge of the rest stop area and can just make out the Impala with a figure standing by it looking my way.

I can't believe that I've walked almost the entire way already. I'm not ready to face Sam yet. I know he's probably seen me approaching and is wondering why I don't keep walking towards him, but I can't think about that right now.

I need more time. I can't take the guilt, the pity yet. I don't want any attempts at comfort or consolation. I don't want to _talk_ about Hell anymore. I don't want to _think_ about Hell anymore.

But, I know I will never stop thinking about Hell no matter how long I live.

I turn to my right to gaze out at the open field beyond. I'm tempted to walk out into it, but I know that Sam would come after me. I notice a fallen tree just ahead and step off the rough path to sit down on it.

I lean forward to rest my elbows on my knees barely paying attention to the scenery around me. My thoughts keep going from one part of Hell to another – not stopping. I almost wish I hadn't emptied out my flask.

I know that there is absolutely no way I could ever make up for everything I did in Hell. I will always be guilty, and I don't deserve to not feel anything no matter how badly I wish I could stop.

I let my thoughts drift – not really landing on anything in particular. Flashes of Hell intermixed with my life before and since I was pulled out by Castiel. Sam throughout the years and the man he is now. I know I have failed him. If I had not made that deal then Sam would never have started to use his powers. He never would have started down that dark path or gone down that slippery slope. He would have been happy in Heaven.

It's just another reason why I don't deserve any peace and why I never should have been rescued.

But, then again, if I'd not made that deal, Sam would be dead and I'd still have gone to Hell. This time though there would have been no angel to rescue me.

A hand settles on my shoulder startling me. I look up into Sam's worried face. He pats my shoulder once and as he removes his hand, he says with a half-smirk:

"Sorry. Are you alright Dean? Why did you stop?"

"No, Sammy. I'm not alright. And, I don't think I will ever be alright ever again."

I want to say that, but I don't.

I can still fee the guilt and pity coming from, but the time apart has done us both some good – brought us some measure of control back.

I can't hurt him again so instead I say:

"Just a little tired, Sammy. Let's go."

I get up from the log and match pace with Sam as he walks towards the Implala.

I was raised from Perdition by the forces of Heaven, but I still carry Hell around with me everywhere I go.

The car is just ahead, and I keep walking.

ooooooo

**Thanks for reading!**


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